


Man in the Middle

by SucculentHyena



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Digital Art, Fat Shaming, Gamer (2009) AU, Implied Violence, M/M, Mind Control, Objectification, People as Products, Photo edits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:40:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28606098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SucculentHyena/pseuds/SucculentHyena
Summary: Slayershas become the hottest global spectator event in e-sports, giving players the control of a full flesh and blood human being in a massive kill-or-be-killed combat- and when we say flesh and blood, we meanflesh and blood.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 10
Kudos: 31
Collections: Stucky Bingo 2020





	Man in the Middle

**Author's Note:**

> My fill for the Stucky Bingo 2020 for the square “TV Show/Movie/Book AU”
> 
> This is a Gamer (2009) AU. The movie is fine but it has a lot of good story seeds that they threw onto concrete, so I took those seeds and hope to one day plant them in my fertile fic garden. In the meantime, here's some images I made with a little text to accompany them. \\('-')/

> “ _We live in society. We visit Society. Which one is more real, really? Think about it”_

First there was _Society_ , the ultimate simulated environment where players don’t control virtual characters, but actual, living, breathing people. You can walk ‘em and you can talk ‘em (and best of all, you can rock ‘em, if you know what I mean). It’s the ultimate sim where virtual skin-to-skin is more real than ever.

The titillating creation by A.I.M., _Society_ took the world by storm, becoming the number one guilty pleasure of billions. The game uses revolutionary self-replicating nanite technology in the central cortex (that’s your brains, folks) to give you full control- or relinquishment of it- of another human being.

With the introduction of _Society_ came America’s greatest pastime, and it’s greatest employer too. Millions have found paid work as controlled avatars called Citizens, spending their days socializing, dancing, partying, and doing the nasty- all on someone else’s dime!

> “ _You can get paid to be controlled, or you can pay to control”_

Now A.I.M.’s newest simulation product, _Slayer_ _s_ , has taken gaming to new heights of thrilling excess- and controversy.

Revealed a scant ten months ago, _Slayer_ _s_ has become the hottest spectator game in e-sports, beating out _League of Legends_ by over a billion viewers.

The game gives players the control of a full flesh and blood human being in a massive kill-or-be-killed combat- and when we say flesh and blood, we mean _flesh and blood_.

If _Society_ lets us live through others, _Slayers_ lets us _die_ through others. These combatants shoot real bullets and explosives at each others, leading to gory deaths that get streamed live to televisions and computers all across the globe.

The game garnered push-back from concerned parents and legislators as these gruesome deaths became widely accessible to all audiences in a form of entertainment not seen outside of dark web snuff content.

Of course, all this uproar went nowhere as _Slayers_ was produced with the full support and cooperation of the Federal Government (and the American people too, with a whopping 68% approval rating!).

Some argue that the deaths of these slayers are on par with murder, but is it really? All slayers are 100% genuine death-row inmates, each one offered the chance to participate in _Slayers_ as an alternative to their sentence, all voluntarily. If they manage to stay alive for 30 sessions, they get set free (that’s not a bad goddamn deal).

What’s more, the revenue _Slayers_ produces gets funneled back into funding our entire prison system, keeping the bad guys behind bars while saving our good Americans their tax dollars (so if anything, these prisoners are providing a service to their country).

Freedom and redemption isn’t the only thing these criminals earn- the top ones among them have developed a prolific fan base in complement with their controlling gamer, with topped ranked players such as WebSlinger and JackBNimble sh̶̨̢arin g millio҉̶̢͝͠n̷͡s of̶͘͢ de d̨͢icat̢̨e̵͟d҉͏͠ follo w̶͢͞e͡͝r͏̕s̛͏̕͟ ҉̷̶̕v b̷̢̢͢҉e̷̴̕t͢͜͠ w͠ e̶̷e̡n͢ ̴̴̨͜t̡͜͝͝͠h̵̷͝͡ ȩ͠͏cm̛ a͞͏̛͠͝ n͘͟͞d̸҉̷̢ ͘҉̕͡ t̕͝͝h͘͞e̷͘̕͜xi̢ r̴̡͢ ̸̧͏͏s͢͟͞ l̢͞͡͠a̴͘҉̷ y͢͜e͢͏͝jr̴͢ ̕c̡̛̛̕h̨͜͜͠ a ̵͟r̢͞҉a̢̡ c̷̛̛t̴̴̛͢͝ȩ̴̵͢ r̴̢̢̡̕ ş

`Do not believe A.I.M.’s lies.`

`You are being manipulated.`

`Mind control is slavery.`

`They are taking your freedom.`

* * *

Steve sat in the stiff plastic chair, his leg bouncing intermittently as he kept catching himself doing it, only to start again minutes later.

He kept reading over the papers in his lap, checking the information over and over to distract himself from the wait.

He was in a long hallway populated by identical chairs lined alongside the single wall, a handful of others sitting and waiting their turn just like him.

“ _What do you mean ‘beyond the weight limit’?!”_

He flinched at the shout, the woman’s voice carrying through the closed door. He kept his eyes downcast, reading over his STD test results once more, the uninterrupted lines of _negative_ rolling down the page.

His head shot up a moment later when the door slammed open, the women who’d gone in ten minutes ago now storming out.

“Too fucking fat my ass, _you_ lose twenty pounds, asshole!” she spat before turning down the hallway to leave.

Steve accidentally caught her eye as she passed, and she sneered at him. “ _What?_ ” she hissed, and Steve wordlessly dropped his gaze, looking away. She kept walking, slamming the door at the end of the hallway as she left.

Nobody said anything.

“Steven Rogers” a bored voice called from within the office, beckoning him to go next.

Steve made sure his papers were in order and went in, closing the door behind him. He found himself in a small private office, bland save for the desk and a single filling cabinet in the corner. He took a seat in the stiff plastic chair across from the equally stiff worker, his name plaque reading _Sitwell_.

“What can I help you with?” he asked, not even looking at Steve as he typed away on his computer.

Steve swallowed. The words felt like chalk in his mouth. “I’m looking to transfer to full-time”

“You’ll need to get a copy of-”

“I have all the forms” he cut in, sliding the small pile of papers across the desk.

Sitwell didn’t look pleased at the interruption, but at least he finally made eye contact as he took the forms.

Steve had done all the steps, got all the tests done, read the full contract and signed it. It had been a tough decision, but he needed the work. The little slip of paper at home reading _Notice: Rent Increase_ didn’t leave him much choice.

He’d been put in a tough spot. He split his weeks working part-time at the McKelly construction site and part-time as a Citizen avatar for _Society-_ but now those weren’t enough. He needed more money and more hours, and he could only do that by committing to one.

Sitwell flipped through his papers, giving cursory glances over the words that had taken Steve hours to complete. He’d occasionally pause and look up something on his screen, the clack of his keyboard loud in the thick silence of the room, leaving Steve to sit nervously, periodically rubbing his hands on his pants.

If this application fell through, he was looking at more backbreaking and dangerous labour in his future. His shoulder was already becoming a problem, growing sore after only a day of work with nothing but a hot shower and some pills capable of fixing it. Not to mention how he’d nearly cut his leg open last week.

Sitwell breathed tiredly, putting the sheets down and returning his gaze fully to his monitor. “Everything looks to be in order. Your physical and skill criteria are well within the ranges of acceptable, and you’re already employed as a temporary avatar, which helps a fair deal. Consider yourself approved.”

“Thank you” Steve said, shoulders falling in relief. Sitwell only hummed halfheartedly.

“You’ve already signed the acknowledgment, so I’ll go ahead and transfer you” Sitwell said after some more typing. “You’re in luck, too. You have sixty-four users subscribed to be notified of any availability changes. I’ll transfer you into the selection database today; offerings should go live tomorrow. You can see your user information on your employee account when a selection is made”

Steve nodded with a tight smile, his mouth sour. “Thank you” he said again.

“Sure. Is there anything else you need?” he asked as he collected the forms and set them into a pile of similarly organized papers.

“No, that’s all. Have a nice day” Steve said politely as he stood.

“Yeah” Sitwell dismissed, not looking away from his screen.

Steve exited into the hallway, leaving the door open for the next person, not bothering to wait around. He made his way out the front entrance, pausing to adjust to the bright sunlight. He checked his pockets for his phone, wallet and keys out of habit, wishing he had some gum so he could channel his nerves to something other than the need to pace.

He settled on walking instead, skipping the closest bus stop for the next one over just so he could stretch his legs.

The city sidewalk was busy as it usually was with people coming and going on their own business. Cars blared their horns in the street, and the noise of the crowd drowned out any tangible sounds of conversation. Above him a dozen different electric billboards played advertisements, a mishmash of products and services that he was so used to he barely paid them much mind-

Steve turned his gaze down sharply at the set of familiar eyes that came on screen, framed by hair that had grown long with too much time. He felt an ache in the hollow of his chest.

_I’m with you ‘til the end of the line._

The Winter Soldier. Cold. Heartless. Brutal. A killing machine that never loses.

Steve couldn’t bear to look at it. They put his face up there like he was some kind of monster- a dog to entertain the masses, slandering the man underneath. Everywhere Steve went he saw his face, his likeness, his image. Overheard conversations talking about his latest kills, speculating on his possible death, and it was too much.

Steve did his best to avoid anything to do with _Slayers_ , but every day was a challenge. The constant dread that at any moment he’d hear of his death hung over Steve like the blade of a guillotine. It was hell.

Bad enough he was seeing Bucky die in his dreams, he didn’t think he’d survive the real thing.

So he kept his head ducked down, pushing through the crowd. He just needed to get to the bus stop.

* * *

The hum of the air vents and his breathing. The only two sounds, unless he wanted to start making some of his own, but talking to himself got old after a while. His throat started to hurt.

He couldn’t sleep. His eyes burned but they wouldn’t stay closed, his body was exhausted yet the urge to do _something_ gnawed at him.

It was one those nights.

He sat on his cot with his legs pulled up, his hair curtaining his face even though it was too dark to hide anything. He sat and bade his time until the thrumming under him skin subsided, whenever that would be.

There was a sudden grinding noise, and then the slot to his cell opened, a three by five inch rectangle the only opening in the solid metal of the door that made up the sixth wall in his little box.

He squinted at the dull light that shone from the hallway, suspicious. The guards had called lights out hours ago, but it was still too soon for the wake up call.

“ _Psst, Winter Soldier”_ a voice whispered- and was that-?

“ _Hey, hey, Soldier”_ it whispered again, and yeah, that was a woman.

Bucky grew even more suspicious. This was a men’s prison through-and-through; not even the nurses were women, meaning she wasn’t supposed to be here. Who was this person?

“Come on, don’t tell me you’re a heavy sleeper” she said a little louder.

“What do you want?” he asked gruffly, keeping his distance.

“Oh good, you’re awake. Do you know this man?” she asked, and then a small square photo was slid into the slot, held at the edge by slim fingers.

“What?”

“I don’t have a lot of time. Do you know this man?” she insisted, waving the photo.

He cautiously approached, looking down to see-

“Fuck off” he spat, turning away. He didn’t know what her game was, but he didn’t want any part of it.

“In a minute. Just answer the question”

He sighed, gritting his teeth. Fine, it wasn’t like he had much else going on.

“That’s senator Stark”

“Howard Stark” she corrected.

“I know his fucking name”

“Because you killed him” she said, the words an unnecessary jab.

“Fuck off” he spat again.

“But _did_ you kill him?”

Bucky scoffed. “Sweetheart, you can look up the video yourself”

It wasn’t like it was hard to find.

“But did _you_ kill him? Was it _you?”_ she asked pointedly, emphasizing her words.

He froze.

_Gun in hand. Point. Aim._

_Stop._

_Stop._

_Pull the trigger._

_STOP!_

He squeezed his eyes closed, taking a sharp breath. She couldn’t know. Nobody knew.

Except obviously someone did, and it had either leaked or somebody had a desperate theory.

“Why does it matter?” he asked, crouching by the door. He tried to catch a glimpse of her, but she was practically hugging the door and all he got was her arm in a black sweater.

She pulled her hand back, taking the picture with her. “Because this goes beyond you. You think you’re the only one this has happened to? You think it won’t happen again?”

He swallowed. He’d been avoiding thoughts of the spiraling implications of what happened. He was already dealing with his own hell, he couldn’t spare the thought for others.

“You think they’ll let you out after thirty wins?” she asked when he didn’t answer.

He laughed harshly, the sound bitter on his lips.

“Oh, I got no hangups of what’ll happen. I’m surprised they let me get this far”

“You’re popular. You know emperors would spare gladiators if the crowd cheered for mercy?”

“Oh sure, I bet I’m a crowd pleasure” he drawled.

“You think you’re joking, but you actually are. The world loves the idea of you”

“I bet”

He found that hard to believe. He also didn’t care much anyway.

“Let me ask you something” she said after a moment. “If you know you’re not getting out, why are you even fighting?”

_I’m with you ‘til the end of the line._

“Fuck off” he said, though there was no real bite to it this time.

“Okay. So what if I told you I can get you out of here?”

He stayed quiet. She was selling pipe dreams now. Why was she even here?

“Give me your hand” she said, changing topic. He noticed she did that a lot, pivoting one way and then another to dig at him.

“Why?”

“To get a woman’s touch”

He huffed. “Not interested”

“Bucky, I don’t have much time, just give me your hand”

He stiffened. “How do you know that name?”

“Give me your hand, dammit!” she hissed, her voice gone urgent He heard the echo of metal, the sound of the guards making a round.

He cursed under his breath, debating, but the urge to know more won out, and he stuck his hand through the hole. Her fingers gripped his tightly, and then there was a hard pinch between his thumb and finger.

“ _Ow!”_ he hissed, snatching his hand back. “What the hell?”

“Walkie-talkie. We’ll be in touch” she said curtly and then closed the latch, sealing him in darkness once again.

“Wait!” he hissed, thumping his hand against the door, but too late. He heard the sound of the guards walking by a moment later, but there was no sound of the mysterious woman.

He huffed, feeling around his hand to figure out what she’d done. He felt a dab of wetness, barely a drop, and the sting told him it was a small wound. A needle maybe?

He cursed again. What the hell had that been?

He sulked back to his cot, holding his smarting hand close. It was hardly the worst wound he’d ever gotten- but this whole situation didn’t feel right, and he was suddenly paranoid. She snuck into a high-security prison, knew about the shooting, and knew a nickname only a handful of people would know. What the hell was here game? Who _was_ she?

As he sat back, grasping for any semblance of sense, he knew one thing at least.

He wasn’t getting any sleep tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Do I have a degree in graphic design? No.  
> Am I an expert in Photoshop? Debatable.  
> Did I have fun making this? Hell yes.
> 
> For the Bingo Mods:
> 
> Title: Man in the Middle  
> Creator(s): SucculentHyena  
> Card number: 017  
> Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28606098  
> Square filled: E2, TV Show/Movie/Book AU  
> Rating: Mature  
> Archive warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply  
> Major tags: Gamer (2009) AU, Mind Control, Objectification, Photo Edits  
> Summary: _Slayers_ has become the hottest global spectator event in e-sports, giving players the control of a full flesh and blood human being in a massive kill-or-be-killed combat- and when we say flesh and blood, we mean _flesh and blood._  
>  Word count: 2, 600


End file.
